I laughed until it hurt. And then all that was left was, well, you can see all that was left.

You think I’m joking, don’t you?

Well, you’d be half-right. But which half?

Guess you’ll just have to keep reading, won’t you? (They don’t call me the Queen of Cliffhangers for nothing.*)

Backstory

I discovered this comedian with whom I’ve fallen in fun-love. He’s my ideal humor-hunk. What gifts does this Adonis of Comedis have, you ask?

He’s clever. He rarely curses because he doesn’t have to. He knows real words and uses them effectively.

His humor is either observational or self-depricating, so it’s almost universal in its appeal (at least I think so, and, let’s face it, my opinion is what matters most).

He has kind eyes and a sweet smile. Awwwwww.

Okay, he’s tall (6’6″), dark, and handsome (if you like those heroes in romance novels with long hair…the men…the Jewish ones).

He has a few Netfilx specials and YouTube videos. That’s how I discovered him. I’m not a talent scout. Please don’t flood my comments section with audition tapes.

He’s been on every talk show. Ever.

If he ever gets famous, he’s gonna be, well, incredibly famous.

His name is Gary Gulman. Imagine what’s beneath that manly purple shirt. No, not the undershirt, silly.

Main Story

He had a show at the Helium Club in Portland on December 9. Philip and I went.

I was, to put it mildly, excited. But, being 59, I had to pace myself.

The two comedians who opened for him were doomed from the start. Kind of like the winner of a local karaoke contest opening for Rhianna. But, remember, we were in Portland. We’re chill. Also a little drunk (or high). We gave these guys some love, but we all wanted Gary. Gary. Gary! Gary! GARY! GARY!